The spin-off: Rules are rules

A couple classrooms over from where Maria Vargas is teaching, another teacher, Victoria Chapell, is also making her debut with a class of troublemakers. A spin-off series of the main branch of episodes, as it were, with a similar but slightly different take on things, as Victoria gets hoisted by her own insistence on strict adherence to the rules.

Note: The name Victoria Chapell comes from High School High (1996): In that film, Tia Carrere plays the glamorous, straightforward, slightly too attractive woman in the school setting who takes the idealistic teacher seriously, while chaos and meanness reign all around her. Here, the allusion is intentional: the same character at her core — lovingly strict, fresh, visible — and a class that takes advantage of that.

Victoria Chapell stood in the doorway of Room 204 until every face had looked at her. Not intending to be menacing, nor shy, but the way you stand still when you’re giving someone time to make up their mind. Wide dark eyes, warm rich skin, a full mouth, long black hair usually worn loose or half-clipped. She was tidily dressed, her clothes straining against a full chest, narrow waist and full hips. She had one week: Not a school year, not even a semester, she had one week to take this room of young adults who’d failed the written exam, and drag them, kicking or cooperating, to pass the oral. That was the job. Pass them and the school might give her another group and extend her tenure. Fail them and the course vanished, and so did she. She stepped inside, placed her bag neatly on the desk, and smiled — warmly, firmly, without asking the room to like her but the self assurance that they would.

“Good morning. I’m Victoria Chapell. Starting today, I’ll be your teacher.”

A chair creaked in the back. Someone muttered something that sounded like a joke but wasn’t. “Oh, come on, you’ll be gone soon anyway, just like the others,” scoffed an adolescent boy in the second row, clearly enough for everyone to hear. “Just like the last one, too. And the one before that, too. You guys can’t stand us.”

Victoria took the hostility in stride and nodded as if he’d asked a perfectly normal classroom question. “Thanks for saying that. Now we know where we stand.” She stopped in front of the first row, her hands clasped behind her back, her voice soft but firm. “I promise you something. I’m not leaving until this class has its diplomas in hand. Not after the first week. Not after the first argument. Not because things get uncomfortable. I’m staying.”

A few glances were exchanged. Suspicion that was almost hope.

“…And if anyone still has a question about the lesson after class,” she continued, “I’ll even stay longer. Not as a punishment. As an offer. You deserve someone who explains things through to the end.” She’d dealt with classes like this before. She’d disarm their skepticism with sincerity and dedication.

She put down her purse and pulled out a contract. “This is what I learned in training. Not yelling, not threatening; a contract. You show up, I’m not leaving. You follow the class rules, I’ll fulfill my duty.” She tapped the cover with two fingers. “Shall we promise each other this? Like a contract.”

Silence. Then, from the side, a girl’s voice, too polite to be innocent: “Contracts have penalties if someone breaks them.”

Victoria looked at her, almost proud that someone had thought it through. “That’s right.”

“So,” said the boy in the second row, leaning forward, “if you break a rule — there’s a penalty too, Miss Chapell.”

A soft giggle rippled through the room. Victoria heard it. She didn’t pretend she hadn’t heard it. She nodded. “Sure. Either a consequence based on the school rules.” She thought for a moment. “Or, if that’s not possible — I can’t suspend myself from class, for example, that’d be ridiculous — then… you get one wish,” she looked around the classroom, “nothing that costs money. I don’t have that much.” A little joke to break the tension, like she’d been taught. The statement hung in the air. It was an offer she meant seriously, and which she, affectionately strict, considered binding.

“And you won’t just retract it if you get mad at us? Our old teacher made promises but never kept them.”

“Well, trust me that I will keep my promises,” Victoria declared.

There was a but of silence. In the back, someone slid forward in their chair, sounding painfully loud in the moment. Up front, very quietly, the same girl said: “Shouldn’t we write that down somewhere?”

Victoria smiled again. This time, more subtly. “Very good. Whoever has a pen, write it down. Whoever doesn’t have one, borrow one. Uhm, does anyone know where the class rules are?”